The Curse of the Aitvaras
by Angie Astravic
Summary: Malfoy puts Harry under a peculiar curse, with unexpected consequences that not even a visit to Hogsmeade Church can set right. Seven years later, Harry explains all to Oliver Wood, leading to an encounter with Kennilworthy Whisp on Bodmin Moor.
1. Aitvaras Quidditch

**Alternate Universe Note:** This story is part of the Legacy of Slytherin series, which diverges wildly from canon after _Goblet of Fire_. More specifically, it's a sequel to "The Serpent of Lord Voldemort". Read that for full details on Ron's becoming a Chaser, Harry's ability to turn into a snake and Malfoy's putting Harry under the Curse of the Aitvaras. A full listing and suggested reading order for Legacy of Slytherin can be found on my Author Page. 

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**— chapter one —**

**AITVARAS QUIDDITCH**

  
'Ginny, Katie, look out!' yelled Harry. 

WHAM! 

Ginny Weasley and Katie Bell crashed hard into each other in a tangle of arms and legs. Harry sent his Firebolt into a steep dive, levelling out directly below the two Chasers. If one of them fell off her broom, he could catch her. Catching the pair of them, however, would be a serious challenge ... 

Luckily both girls remained mounted. When they drifted apart, Katie sported a bloody nose and Ginny was flying in an extremely wobbly circle. 

'Ginny, are you OK?' said Ron, gliding over to check his sister for injuries. 

Harry stayed where he was -- a fall from her broomstick still appeared to be a real possibility for Ginny. He heard Ron mutter 'hospital wing', then in a louder voice call out, 'Right, let's head for the changing rooms, I reckon we've done all the training we can for this evening.' 

Harry and Ron accompanied Ginny and Katie to the hospital wing, where Madam Pomfrey mended Katie's nose and sent Ginny to bed with a goblet of potion, assuring Ron that his sister would be right as rain after a night's rest. Nonetheless, Ron was in very low spirits as he and Harry climbed the stairs to Gryffindor Tower. 

'It's no good, we're not going to learn it in time,' he said abruptly to Harry. 'Ginny's too new and Katie's too used to doing things the old way. It's all down to you. You've got to catch the Snitch as fast as you can. If we win this match, or don't lose by much, we'll still have a chance at the Cup, and I can work out a simplified Weasley Welter for the next one. Wish I'd had you practise Seeking more ...' 

But there would be no time for that, either, Harry knew. Gryffindor's first match of the season, against Slytherin, was to take place the following morning. 

Undeniably, they were in poor shape for it. Four of their strongest players -- Fred and George Weasley, Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet -- had left Hogwarts the previous year. The replacement Beaters, Andrew Kirke and Jack Sloper, could charitably be described as dreadful. Ron and Ginny had come on as Chasers, but although Ron had trained with the team in fifth year and Ginny was surprisingly capable despite her lack of experience, neither of them were near the equal of Angelina or Alicia in their prime. 

As the only person on the team able to make head or tail of Oliver Wood's old training diagrams, Ron had become Captain. To compensate for their current weaknesses, he'd devised a fresh set of Chasing tactics he dubbed the Weasley Welter, which worked beautifully well -- on parchment. In the air it proved rather more difficult to bring off. For their training sessions, Harry had been assigned the role of Slytherin Chaser -- 'We'll get the hang of it quicker if we've got someone to practise it on, and you always catch the Snitch, anyway.' 

If that was the case, Harry didn't like to think how long it would take them _without_ a fake opponent. After two months of training, the 'Slytherins' -- Harry, Keeper Vidge Atkins and whichever of Kirke and Sloper had been designated Attacking Beater (in theory, at least; in practice this had little effect on whom they hit their Bludgers at) -- had never ended a training session less than a hundred points ahead of the three Gryffindor Chasers. 

The real Slytherins could scarcely be any less proficient. Moreover, Ginny and Katie's hadn't been the first collision to occur in the midst of an especially complex manoeuvre, although it was, to date, the most serious. Unless Harry managed an early capture of the Snitch, Gryffindor would be lucky merely to lose the match without making complete fools of themselves in front of the entire school -- and Harry had had no practice at Seeking since last year. 

Next day the weather was cold but brilliantly sunny; any errors in play would be blindingly obvious to the spectators. The Gryffindor team walked out onto the pitch to cheers and applause they seemed hardly likely to earn. Ron went white under the freckles as Slytherin Captain Millicent Bulstrode crushed his hand, and Harry couldn't help thinking it an omen of things to come. Madam Hooch blew her whistle -- 

Harry's head whipped suddenly about and his eyes locked on the Snitch, hovering high above him, behind and to his left. He wrenched his broom around and shot towards it. It zipped sharply upward and rightward; he adjusted his course, reached out ... and plucked the tiny, shimmering golden ball from the air. 

'I've got it!' he shouted. 'I've caught the Snitch!' 

There was an instant of stunned silence, then the stadium erupted. 

'I DON'T SODDING BELIEVE IT!' yelled Kevin Entwhistle, the Ravenclaw who'd succeeded Lee Jordan as commentator ('Language, Kevin!' squeaked Professor Flitwick). 'SEVEN BLOODY SECONDS! FOUR SECONDS SOONER AND WE'D'VE HAD A NEW WORLD RECORD!' 

Shocked but triumphant, Gryffindor's supporters spilled onto the pitch to congratulate Harry and pound him on the back. 

'Couldn't've waited a few minutes for us to try out the Weasley Welter in a real match, could you?' said Ron happily. 'I'll never tell you to catch the Snitch as fast as you can again!' 

Indeed, the whole thing had transpired so rapidly that it scarcely felt like a proper game, but it meant that Gryffindor was still in the running for the Quidditch Cup, with a decent if not commanding lead. 

Over the next couple of months, Ron, Ginny and Katie mastered a pared down variation of the Weasley Welter and actually started to hold their own against Harry and Vidge. Harry wasn't sure how promising a sign this was. As three Chasers to his one, they should have been outscoring him handily even without the Weasley Welter, only he had a Keeper and they didn't. 

'You've also got a Firebolt,' Ron pointed out when Harry asked him, 'and you're a better Chaser than any of the Hufflepuffs. Honestly, you're a better Chaser than me or Ginny -- your flying's improved no end since last season, and it was damned good then. But we're really coming along with the Weasley Welter. Just give us time to score some goals before you get the Snitch!' 

The Gryffindor team went into their second match with rather more confidence than the first -- at least on the part of the Chasers. Ron had fine-tuned the Weasley Welter up to the last moment; as a result, Harry hadn't put in so much as an hour of training as a Seeker. He didn't reckon he'd have a choice about postponing his catch of the Snitch until the Weasley Welter could be used to good effect. 

The sky was clear and a light breeze was blowing on the morning of the match against Hufflepuff. The crowd shouted and clapped as the two teams came out of the changing rooms and gathered on the pitch. Madam Hooch released the balls ... and then a very strange thing happened. 

Harry's gaze was unerringly drawn to a spot at the far side of the stadium, halfway up the central Hufflepuff goalpost. The distance was too great for him to see the Golden Snitch, but somehow he was certain it was there. Recalling Ron's instructions to delay its capture, Harry hesitated and the Snitch was gone ... closer and higher, towards the Slytherin spectators ... straight across to the Ravenclaw section of the stands ... lower and nearer yet, in the middle of the pitch ... 

The match that followed was one of the weirdest Harry had every played. He always seemed to know where the Snitch was, always. There was nothing left for him to do but dodge Bludgers (a fair number sent pelting his way by Kirke and Sloper themselves), keep an eye on Hufflepuff Seeker Summerby and watch as the Weasley Welter slowly ran up the score, despite intense punishment by Hufflepuff's considerably more skilful Beaters. 

After six hours, with Gryffindor over two hundred points ahead, Harry decided he'd better end the match so they all could have their dinner. Ron was ecstatic ('Four hundred and ninety to a hundred and thirty! Even if we lose the final, we might still take the Cup on points!') but Harry couldn't enjoy their win. Finding the Snitch had been simply too easy for him ... and he had no idea how he'd done it. 

Harry felt more left out than ever at the inevitable post-match party in the common room. His fellow Gryffindors were at a fever pitch of enthusiasm after their hard-fought victory. Nobody had seen anything like the Weasley Welter before, and Ron, Ginny and Katie were the centre of attention. 

'And that was only the intermediate level,' Ron told his admirers jubilantly. 'Once we have the advanced Weasley Welter off pat, that Quidditch Cup will never leave McGonagall's office!' 

'Mind, we'll have a job doing that,' he said, a bit later and far more quietly, as he flopped down in an armchair beside Harry's. 'The Chasers might manage it, but the advanced Welter needs Beaters, and our ones aren't up to beginning level yet. Hufflepuff's Beaters were killing us, and Ravenclaw's Beaters are better than Hufflepuff's. Their whole team's very good, I'm not sure we'll be able to beat them even with the Weasley Welter. Unless you can pull off another seven second Snitch catch ...' 

He eyed Harry uncertainly. 

'You did hold off catching the Snitch on purpose, didn't you? I mean, I know I haven't been letting you practise much ...' 

'I _could_ make another seven second catch, actually,' said Harry in a low voice. 'I could catch the Snitch whenever you want it caught. I wasn't just holding off -- I knew exactly where that Snitch was, from the minute Madam Hooch let it out of the crate. Even when she was bringing the balls back into the castle, I could feel where it was going ...' 

Ron stared at him. 

'You've been hit on the head with a Bludger,' he said flatly. 'If it was Kirke or Sloper, I'll murder them ... I'll murder them anyway, they're supposed to be keeping those things away from you --' 

'I didn't get hit by a Bludger,' said Harry testily. 'It wasn't only this match, how d'you think I caught the Snitch so quickly last time? Am I -- am I hexed or something? Could someone have cast a -- a Snitch-Finding Spell on me?' 

'Wizards have tried to all sorts of mad ways to rig Quidditch matches,' said Ron, looking deeply uneasy, 'but nothing I've heard of like this. And who'd bother rigging a Hogwarts house match? There's no serious betting on them, the goblins won't cover it.' 

'Why not?' said Harry. 

'Dumbledore doesn't allow Anti-Cheating curses. Says it's too dangerous for the students. Mind, if somebody did invent a Snitch-Finding Spell, this would be a great place to test it out.' 

Ron gave a sudden frown. 

'We should report this to Madam Hooch ... but Gryffindor would forfeit both matches ... there'd be a huge investigation ... this late in the season, the whole Tournament would probably be cancelled.' 

He and Harry exchanged glum looks. 

'What's happened?' said Hermione, strolling over. 'The two of you look as though someone just died.' 

As usual, Harry's attention was drawn to the small gold locket she wore, glittering at her neck like a tiny Snitch ... 

'Hermione, could you walk around the room a bit?' he said. 'To the portrait hole, to the fireplace, to the staircase and back again?' 

'How come?' said Hermione. 

'I want to try something,' said Harry. 'I'll explain after you get back.' 

He shut his eyes tightly. The locket remained where it was for several moments, then moved behind him towards the portrait hole, paused, circled round to the staircase and headed back, stopping in front of him once more. Eyes still closed, he reached out and tapped it with a finger. 

'It's your locket,' he said. 

'Yes, it is,' said Hermione, eyeing him askance. 

'I mean, I can track it too,' said Harry. 

Nor was it merely Hermione's locket he could track. The common room, he now perceived, was filled with Snitch-like objects -- jewellery, watches, things in people's pockets that Harry suspected were Galleons ... even the sweets on the tables registered as softer, blurrier presences. 

'What do you mean, track it too?' said Hermione irritably. 'What's going on with you?' 

Harry told her about the Snitch. 

'... and your locket's the same way. I've been noticing it since last year, when you visited me in the hospital wing.' 

'After Malfoy kicked your head in?' said Hermione. 'Harry, you could have some kind of wizarding brain damage! Have you gone to Madam Pomfrey?' 

'If it's a Snitch-Finding Spell, I bet Malfoy put it on you,' Ron chipped in. 'Planning to get Gryffindor disqualified for cheating, I expect. D'you remember him casting a jinx when he was kicking you?' 

'No, I -- _er_,' said Harry. 

Ron and Hermione looked at him keenly. Harry felt his face go red. 

'Malfoy didn't put a jinx on me,' he muttered. 'He turned me into an Aitvaras.' 

Harry explained how he'd freed himself from the ropes Malfoy tied him with by changing into a snake, only to be caught in a Snake Basket and transformed into an Aitvaras. By the end of his story, Ron and Hermione were goggling at him in amazement. 

Hermione found her voice first. 

'Why didn't you mention this last year?' she demanded. 

'Didn't think it was important,' said Harry. 'I got better, didn't I? Well, mostly better ...' 

The truth was he hadn't wished to admit to them he'd been stupid enough to let Malfoy trap him. 

'We need to tell Madam Pomfrey,' said Hermione. 

'We can't,' said Ron. 'Gryffindor would forfeit the tournament!' 

'Are you saying that you care more about winning at Quidditch than Harry's health?' snarled Hermione. 

'Hermione, we _can't_ tell Madam Pomfrey,' said Harry in an undertone. 'She doesn't know I can turn into a snake.' 

'Oh,' said Hermione, temporarily stymied. 'Well, then, we need to tell Dumbledore.' 

'Why?' said Harry. 'I'm not ill, not really, and he's got enough on his plate, with the Council of Heirs and all.' 

As humiliating as it had been to confess the Aitvaras incident to Ron and Hermione, telling Dumbledore would be infinitely worse. 

'So you'll be resigning from the Gryffindor Quidditch team?' said Hermione. 

'_Resigning?_' said Ron. 'What for?' 

'If he's finding the Snitch by magic, it's cheating, isn't it?' said Hermione severely. 

'No it's not, there's no rule against having an Aitvaras for a Seeker,' said Ron. 

'There would be if the International Association of Quidditch heard about this!' Turning to Harry, she continued, 'It isn't fair to the other teams, you know it isn't, and Dumbledore would tell you as much.' 

Harry stared past her into the fire for nearly a full minute. 

'I suppose I'll have to, won't I?' he said in a strained voice. 

The thought of giving up Quidditch, for ever, was almost enough to make him reconsider asking Dumbledore for assistance. What he'd told Hermione, however, was perfectly true: Dumbledore had far more important matters to occupy him than helping Harry keep his place on the Gryffindor team. 

'You can't!' said Ron in horror. 'We'll never beat Ravenclaw without you, we don't have a reserve Seeker! Can't you just look for the Snitch without using magic?' 

'I don't know,' said Harry. 

He closed his eyes and concentrated, trying to see if there was any way he could shut down this odd extra sense. But it did no good. If anything, he was making himself even more aware of the food and valuables around him. 

'Sorry,' he said at last, 'I don't think this is something I can switch off.' 

'This is all your fault!' Ron spat. 

Harry's eyes flew open in astonishment. Then he saw that Ron was talking to Hermione. 

'You'd just better work out how to break this curse before the final if you want Gryffindor to have a shot at the Quidditch Cup!' 

'_My_ fault?' said Hermione, her voice shrill with outrage, but before she could say anything more (and by the look of her, she had quite a bit more to say) Ron stormed off, leaving her to sit fuming impotently. 

'_Could_ you work out how to break the curse, d'you reckon?' Harry asked her quietly. 

'I won't!' said Hermione glaring furiously after Ron. 'Ravenclaw can have the Quidditch Cup, Professor Flitwick can drink his cherry sodas from it --' 

Catching sight of Harry's miserable face, her expression grudgingly softened. 

'I can have a look in the library,' she said. 'Not a word to Ron I'm doing it, though, unless you fancy being an Aitvaras for the rest of your life!' 

This proved an easy promise to keep. Next day Ron avoided the pair of them. He sat with Ginny at meals but didn't seem to be getting along terribly well with her, either. Harry spotted them having a fierce whispered argument in the Entrance Hall when he and Hermione went down to dinner. 

Later that evening, Ron came up to the table in the common room where Harry and Hermione were doing their homework. 

'Er,' he said awkwardly to Hermione. 'I wanted to say I'm, ah, sorry for shouting at you on Saturday.' 

'Are you?' said Hermione coldly. 

Ron glanced nervously over her shoulder. Twisting his head, Harry saw Ginny perched on the edge of her seat, staring intently at Ron and Hermione. 

'It was Malfoy's fault, not yours,' Ron ploughed on. 'I shouldn't have lost my temper. You were right, it would be cheating for Harry to play Seeker. I'm having him and Ginny switch positions. She's not as good at Seeking, but with the Weasley Welter, we'll still have a chance -- a slim one.' 

Ron's gaze flicked to Ginny. She locked eyes with her brother and, to Harry's befuddlement, held up seven fingers. 

'And -- and don't bother with trying to break the curse,' Ron resumed. 'You're too busy, you're taking seven NEWT classes, you wouldn't have the time ...' 

Ginny dropped her left hand, leaving a V for victory -- or so Harry initially assumed. 

But Ron wasn't finished. 'It'd be no use, anyway. I mean, you're brilliant and all, but You-Know-Who taught Malfoy that spell, no student's going to be getting round it. I never should've asked you in the first place ... and, er, I'm really, really sorry ...' 

Ginny settled back into her chair. She and Ron were both looking at Hermione expectantly. 

'Well, I'm glad you've finally decided to be sensible,' Hermione said primly, 'but there's no need to be making changes in your line-up just yet. I have a few ideas about countering that curse, as it happens ...' 

Behind her back, Ginny gave Ron the thumbs-up. 

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**Author's Note:**

The title of this chapter was inspired by "Imperius Quidditch", a very good Tom Riddle Quidditch fic by Alec Dossetor and Teri Krenek. 

I'm going to start answering **Questions from Reader Reviews** again, in my LiveJournal. Answers to questions from reviews of "The Imbolc Serpent" will be appearing there shortly; I'll do the first batch from this fic about a week from now. Asking questions in the LiveJournal itself is also fine; in fact, they'll probably get answered quicker. You can find a link to my LiveJournal on my Author Page; it appears in the "homepage" field. 

Chapter 2 of "The Curse of the Aitvaras" should be ready by mid-June. 

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_ Disclaimer: All characters and concepts from the Harry Potter series copyright J K Rowling. _


	2. Hogsmeade Church

**— chapter two —**

**HOGSMEADE CHURCH**

Three weeks later, Hermione was no longer feeling quite so confident. She had combed the library, ploughing through every book she could find on Charms, Transfiguration and Magical Creatures, even going so far as to obtain a note from Professor Malfoy (Harry didn't like to think how) to use the Restricted Section. Not one of the slew of counter-curses she attempted on Harry had any effect. 

'It's likely there's a particular spell required to reverse the transformation, as none of the all-purpose counters have worked,' she told Harry and Ron dispiritedly after her latest failure. 'But the only book that even mentioned Aitvarases said they didn't exist. _A figment of the Muggle imagination accepted as truth by Baltic warlocks, notorious throughout the wizarding world for their ignorance and credulity_ ...' 

'Aitvarases are real, Dumbledore knows about them,' said Harry. 'He was really upset when he thought Voldemort had left one in Privet Drive.' 

'What _is_ an Aitvaras, anyway?' said Hermione. 'Some sort of venomous snake, obviously, but is there anything else magical about it?' 

'Not exactly venomous,' said Harry. 'Dumbledore says the people they bite catch fire and burn to death. And when I was an Aitvaras, I could fly.' 

'You what?' said Ron, his jaw dropping. 

'I flew out of the Snake Basket to Hagrid's house,' said Harry. 

'Can you still fly?' said Hermione. 'When you turn into a snake, I mean?' 

'Dunno,' said Harry. 'I haven't become a snake since Malfoy enchanted me. I'm supposed to be keeping it secret that I can transform, remember?' he added, at Ron's exasperated look. 

Hermione shook her head. 'Baltic warlocks -- there are probably whole books on Aitvarases at Durmstrang. Pity Viktor's left school ...' 

Ron made a sour face at the mention of Viktor Krum. 

'Easter holidays are coming up,' Hermione went on. 'I could go and have a search in the Magical Collections of the British Library.' 

'The British Library has Magical Collections?' said Harry. 

'Well, not that Muggles have access to, but I expect Professor McGonagall can get me a pass for the Wizarding Reading Room,' said Hermione. 'It's the only place I'd have a chance of tracking down the spell if not at Hogwarts ...' 

The day the students who had gone home for Easter holidays returned to school, Harry and Ron were waiting for Hermione in the Entrance Hall. 

'Did you find anything?' said Ron, the instant she stepped through the great oak front doors. 

'I didn't find anything in the Magical Collections,' said Hermione. 'But I did run across some very interesting information in the Muggle section of the library!' 

She brandished a sheaf of parchment in triumph. 

Harry and Ron followed her up to the Gryffindor common room, eager to hear what she'd learnt. Hermione spread the parchment out on a table. 

'_The Aitvaras takes the form of a fiery flying serpent and goes forth to steal grain, milk and coins for its master_,' she read aloud from her notes. '_An Aitvaras may be bought from the devil, at the cost of one's soul._' 

'The devil!' said Ron. 

He moved away from Harry, looking suddenly wary. 

'Oh, Ron, that's pure superstition,' said Hermione. 'Quite a lot of things were blamed on the devil in the Middle Ages that turned out to be perfectly ordinary Dark Magic. The point is, those Muggles must have got hold of a real Aitvaras, as it matches Harry's symptoms. And they had a cure. _Should an Aitvaras be driven over the threshold of a church, the power of Satan will fall from it, and it shall be from that day forward a holy serpent, a Zaltys._' 

'What's that mean, the power of Satan?' said Harry uneasily. 

'It means that the curse can be broken,' said Hermione. 'Don't worry about it, Ron!' (Ron's eyes were nearly popping out of his head with horror) 'Honestly, there's no magical proof that devils even exist. The Department of Mysteries tried every spell they could think of to call one up back in the eighteenth century --' 

'_They tried to summon the devil_?' said Ron, 'Were they out of their minds?' 

'They had Aurors with crosses and cauldrons of holy water standing guard in case anything showed up,' said Hermione impatiently, 'but of course nothing ever did, and the few modern wizards who've claimed to be in league with Satan were all proven to be either mad or lying to frighten people.' 

'I'm more worried about the power of Voldemort,' said Harry. 'Malfoy got the ring from him. Does that make Malfoy my master?' 

'I -- I'm not sure,' said Hermione. 'You haven't been stealing things and giving them to him, have you? It won't matter once we break the curse, that's what I've been trying to explain. If that church was built before 1692, wizards may have helped build it. They'd have put spells on to protect it, and forcing the Aitvaras through those enchantments is what untransformed it --' 

'Was the Aitvaras really untransformed?' interrupted Harry. 'You said it changed into another kind of snake -- a Saltis? What are they like?' 

'The book didn't say much,' admitted Hermione. 'A Zaltys is supposed to bring good luck, and if they eat from a dish, you'll know the food isn't poisoned.' 

'Could come in handy if Snape ever decides to slip me something,' said Harry. 'But will I stop finding the Snitch?' 

'They wouldn't call it a holy serpent if it was still stealing,' said Hermione, 'so I don't think it can find gold. You haven't been inside a wizarding church since you became an Aitvaras, have you?' 

'I've never been inside a church at all,' said Harry. 'The Dursleys only went for weddings and christenings and things, and they definitely didn't take me.' 

Hermione looked shocked. 

'You -- er -- you do know who Jesus is?' she said. 

Harry rolled his eyes. 'They let me out of the cupboard to go to school. Of course I know who Jesus is. Born in a manger as there was no room at the inn? They _said_ there was no room at the inn,' he added darkly. 

Had his own mother turned up pregnant in Privet Drive, there wasn't a doubt in Harry's mind that he himself would have been born in the Dursleys' greenhouse, or more likely a cell in the Little Whinging Police Station. 

'Well ... yes ...' said Hermione, sounding a mite dubious. 'Anyway, whatever protections a pre-Separation church had, Hogsmeade Church will have too. We can go there on our next visit to Hogsmeade and get you put right.' 

Next Hogsmeade weekend, Ron and Hermione set off down the road to the village. Harry rode along in Hermione's bag as a snake, so as not to risk having someone see him transform. When they reached the church, Ron pushed the door open and Hermione tipped Harry out of the bag. Harry peered inside, gaining a confused impression of many benches forming an aisle to a screen of carved wood, beyond which was a table on a raised platform. 

SMACK! 

Hermione brought the empty bag walloping down on the stone doorstep at Harry's tail. He shot through the door in fright to take refuge beneath the nearest bench. 

'I'd have gone in on my own,' he said peevishly, changing back into himself and crawling from under the bench. 

'The book said you had to be driven,' said Hermione. 'Did it work?' 

Harry looked around. 'The candlesticks on the table are plate, but there's real gold behind the wall, and food too. That -- thing -- is full of Galleons, there's one more between those stacks of books and you've got two of them in your pocket. No, I'm still an Aitvaras.' 

'_Accio Galleon_,' said Hermione. The Galleon flew from the books into her hand. 'Fallen out of the collection bag, I expect,' she said, dropping it into the coin slot of what resembled a cast iron parking meter (but without the actual meter) to join its fellows. 'I'm sorry, Harry, I was certain this would do the trick. I don't know what else we can try.' 

'How about some holy water?' said Ron, pointing to a marble statue of a cauldron on a pillar, which did indeed have water in it. 

'Where are the goblets?' said Harry. 

'You don't _drink_ holy water,' said Ron, scandalised. 'You dip your fingers in it ... and cross yourself -- here, like this. No, other side first,' he said as Harry imitated him. 

Harry waited a while, but his awareness of the presence of gold did not diminish. 

'Sorry, no good,' he said to Ron. 

'Ah, well,' said Ron. 'It would've been a miracle if it had worked. A _real_ miracle, they'd've had to make you Saint Harry. I mean, Jesus broke curses with mud and water, but I don't reckon anybody else could.' 

'Hang on, Jesus was a wizard?' said Harry, laughing. 'I should tell the Dursleys, they'd never set foot in a church again.' 

'Course he was a wizard,' said Ron. 'How many Muggles do you know who can change water into wine?' 

For some reason, this seemed to annoy Hermione. 

'How many wizards do _you_ know who can change water into wine without a wand?' she asked. 

'He _had_ a wand, the wise men brought it to him,' said Ron. 'It was made of frankincense and myrrh.' 

'I've never heard of Jesus having a wand,' said Hermione sceptically. 

'Look in the Bible if you don't believe me!' said Ron. 

He stalked up the aisle to a tall stand by the wooden screen, Hermione trailing after him. There was a book on the stand, massive and ancient-looking. Ron flung it open. 

'You see? A wand!' 

Hermione elbowed Ron unceremoniously aside and began riffling the book's pages. The figures in the stained glass windows all crowded into the nearest pane to watch and the angels painted on the ceiling stopped the tossing game they'd been playing with their halos to gaze down curiously. 

Harry, however, was more concerned with the fact that his last chance to keep his position as Seeker was slipping away. For the thousandth time, he tried somehow to shut his gold-seeing Inner Eye, but as always that simply made the Sight keener. He could sense every ounce of gold in the church: the hoard in the back, the potful of Galleons at the door and the numerous smaller specks scattered about in odd corners. These puzzled Harry until it occurred to him to use a Summoning Charm, which collected six unmatched earrings and the front of a locket with the portrait of a pretty but rather timid-looking young witch. 

'Incunabula Press!' said Hermione triumphantly. 

Harry turned to stare at her. 

'Ron, this is a wizarding Bible,' she continued. 'Drawing Jesus with a wand is just artistic licence.' 

'What d'you mean, artistic licence?' said Ron. 

'Well, look at him,' said Hermione. 'He looks like an Englishman, doesn't he?' 

'I suppose you think he should look French,' said Ron sarcastically. 

'Don't be silly,' Hermione snapped. 'He was born in the Middle East, he should look like an Arab!' 

Ron opened his mouth, to make a withering retort, Harry was sure. 

'Hermione!' called Harry loudly. 

Ron and Hermione looked up from their argument. 

'Does Hogsmeade have a village PC?' 

'No, why?' said Hermione. 

'I found this lot,' said Harry, holding up the jewellery. 'Reckoned we'd better hand it in to someone.' 

'We'll give it to the vicar,' said Hermione. 'Close the Bible, Ron, we shouldn't be quarrelling in a church.' 

She swept down the aisle towards Harry. Ron slammed the book shut, so roughly that had it been one of Madam Pince's books, it would have started beating him about the head. 

'If he was an Arab,' he snarled under his breath, 'he was a wizarding Arab.' 

Hermione led them round to the vicarage. She told the vicar, a dumpy witch in faded brown robes, that they'd discovered the earrings whilst making brass rubbings. The vicar did not question this story, merely thanking them in an absent-minded voice as she squinted near-sightedly at the picture in the locket. 

Ron was in a thoroughly bad mood as they made their way back to Hogwarts, muttering things like 'load of Muggle rubbish' and 'an Arab, I ask you'. 

'And I'd like to know,' he rounded on Hermione, 'exactly what's so lucky about a snake that _can't_ find jewellery and Galleons?' 

Harry was expecting Hermione to bite Ron's head off, but instead she looked thoughtful. A few paces further along, she stooped to pull up a dandelion that was growing on the edge of the street. 

'Can I eat this?' she asked Harry abruptly. 

'Eat it?' said Harry. 'It's a dandelion!' 

'You can detect food as well as gold, can't you?' said Hermione. 'Is this food?' 

'Oh ... oh, yeah, it is,' said Harry. 

As they were walking by a hedge on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, Hermione reached over and broke off a piece of vine with tiny, greenish-white flowers. 

'How about this?' she said. 

Before Harry realised what he was doing, he had slapped it out of her hand. 

'That's not food,' he told her flatly. 

'It's white bryony,' said Hermione. 'Poisonous, except in very small doses.' 

Immediately they arrived at the castle, Hermione went off to the library. Harry and Ron returned to Gryffindor Tower to break the news to Ginny that she was their new Seeker. 

'At least we know you're not possessed,' said Ron, as they climbed through the portrait hole. 'The holy water would've scalded you.' 

'Nice of you to have warned me!' said Harry. 

'I'll rearrange the Weasley Welter to take advantage of your sharp dives,' said Ron, ignoring him. 'Look at it this way, you've been a Slytherin Chaser all year in practice. Now you'll be punching a Quaffle for the right house.' 

Ginny was far from gruntled at being put off the Chasing Squad, but Ron promised it was only for one match. 

'Next season we'll train a replacement Seeker and you can have Katie's position,' he assured her -- which still left Harry facing a Snitchless future. 

As if that wasn't bad enough, he received an unpleasant shock on Monday afternoon when he spotted the vicar stumping up the marble staircase. It was the first time Harry had ever seen her at Hogwarts. That she should make an appearance a mere two days after his visit to Hogsmeade Church struck him as a rather sinister coincidence. Had she somehow guessed what they'd been up to? Could one of the stained glass saints or painted angels have tipped her off to the odd goings-on in the church? 

Harry was torn between fear and a strange sort of hopefulness. If the vicar went to Dumbledore with her suspicions, he, Harry, would have a lot of explaining to do. On the other hand, Dumbledore just might know the right spell to break the Curse of the Aitvaras. Gryffindor would no doubt forfeit this year's tournament; Ron would be devastated ... but Harry would be allowed to play Seeker again. 

Moving as silently as he could, Harry nipped up the stairs behind the vicar. She headed down the corridor to the staff room, knocked on the door and entered. Unable to follow her inside, Harry lurked beside a suit of armour. After several minutes, the door opened once more and the vicar came out -- accompanied by Professor Snape. 

'... must be getting back to the vicarage,' she was saying to him. 'Good I managed to locate you so quickly.' 

'Yes ... thank you,' said Snape in a distracted tone, sounding quite unlike his usual self. 

He was gazing intently at something in the palm of his hand -- something, Harry registered, that was made of gold. So wrapped up was Snape in his contemplation of the mysterious object that he walked past Harry without even noticing him, to Harry's not inconsiderable relief. Harry waited until Snape had rounded the corner before going after him, keeping the Potions master out of sight, using his Aitvaras power to track the gold. 

'What's that you've got there, Severus?' Professor McGonagall's voice floated up the passage. 

Harry paused to listen. 

'A portrait of my mother,' said Snape. 'The vicar just brought it. It was -- lost to me -- many years ago, when I was a student at Hogwarts.' 

'And it's turned up after all this time?' said Professor McGonagall. 'That was a bit of luck.' 

'Yes,' said Snape, 'wasn't it?'

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Questions from reader reviews will be answered in my LiveJournal; I'll do the first batch from this fic about a week from now. You can find a link to my LiveJournal on my Author Page; it appears in the "homepage" field. Chapter 3 of "The Curse of the Aitvaras" should be ready around the end of August.

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_Disclaimer: All characters and concepts from the Harry Potter series copyright J K Rowling. _


	3. Bodmin Moor

**— chapter three —**

**BODMIN MOOR**

'So how did you finally break the curse?' said Oliver Wood, taking a swig from his pint of MacSweeney's Old Peculiar Thistleseed Lager. 

'We didn't,' said Harry. 'That's what I've been trying to tell you.' 

Oliver looked confused. 

'There are nine Galleons in the till,' said Harry, with jerk of his head towards the bar of the Leaky Cauldron. 'Looks like Tom keeps most of his gold in the back room. His Thief's Curse is getting weak, I should warn him about that, not that a Thief's Curse would be much use against an Aitvaras. You have five Galleons in your money bag and a gold -- er.' 

Harry stared at Oliver's middle in astonishment. Oliver went bright red and spat out a mouthful of beer. 

'You -- you really can --' he choked. 

'Right,' said Harry. 'Which means I can't play Seeker for Puddlemere, even as a temporary replacement.' 

Face still scarlet, Oliver took another deep drink of his Thistleseed Lager. 

'Yes -- yes, I see ...' 

Silence fell between them. Oliver gazed past Harry into the fire. Harry sipped from his own pint, recalling his stint as a Gryffindor Chaser. They'd lost the sixth year Quidditch final to Ravenclaw, but with enough points to win the tournament anyway -- Cho had been forced to catch the Snitch prematurely to stop Ginny getting it. In seventh year, with their new Seeker Dennis Creevey and a Weasley Welter of Harry, Ron and Ginny, Gryffindor had managed to take the Cup properly. 

All in all, life as a Chaser hadn't been bad, but seven years on, Harry still missed the thrill of Seeking: the wind whipping in his face as he zoomed round the pitch, eyes peeled for the Snitch ... the first sight of glimmering gold after a long search ... the breathless acceleration to beat the other team's Seeker ... the feel of tiny wings fluttering hopelessly against his fingers as he soared high in the air to the cheers and screams of the crowd. There was nothing, truly, to compare to that experience ... an experience that Harry could never have again. 

'Did you ever figure out how you were able change into a snake in the first place?' said Oliver, breaking in on Harry's thoughts. 

'Hermione had a theory,' said Harry. 'She didn't reckon I could've been the first Parselmouth to be Transfigured against his will, but I might have been the first to be Untransfigured. I fought Professor Snape's reversal spell because I was angry with him -- that's how I learnt to transform. Most people would've _wanted_ to be turned back. Of course, the only way to know for certain would be to try it out on another Parselmouth ...' 

Harry trailed off. He didn't need to tell Oliver how unlikely it was that Hermione would get that opportunity. The gift of Parseltongue was such a rare one that the chances of another speaker turning up in their lifetimes were vanishingly slim. 

'Actually,' Harry went on, 'Hermione thinks I did break the curse, mostly, when I changed back in Hagrid's hut. The Aitvaras Charm's meant to work on snakes, not people. But even human, there's a bit of snake in me that lets me speak Parseltongue, and that bit stayed an Aitvaras.' 

'Any idea what your range is for finding gold?' asked Oliver curiously. 

'I've always been able to push it out as far as I needed to,' shrugged Harry. 'Wider than a Quidditch pitch, definitely. I tracked Hermione once by her locket over nearly a mile.' 

'Only Kennilworthy Whisp is bringing out a new edition of _Quidditch Through the Ages_,' said Oliver. 'Have you heard the story of the Wild Snitch of Bodmin Moor?' 

Kennilworthy Whisp was fascinated when Harry and Oliver apprised him of Harry's Snitch-finding ability. Harry thought it best not to mention Aitvarases, simply saying that the talent had mysteriously emerged during the match against Slytherin, a presumed attempt at game-rigging by witches or wizards unknown. 

'I kept quiet about it because I was scared I'd be expelled, or banned from playing Quidditch for Gryffindor in any position,' said Harry. 'S'pose I should have them take that seven second record off the books at Hogwarts,' he added gloomily. 

Harry wasn't looking forward to the interview with Professor McGonagall that would inevitably follow such a request. 

'Astounding,' said Whisp. 'I've never heard the like. I can tell you that this -- this charm, or whatever it is, hasn't come into widespread use --' 

'How d'you know it hasn't?' said Oliver. 

'The goblins take note of suspicious betting patterns,' said Whisp. 'A series of wins based on the timing of the Snitch capture would tip them off that something was up, even if they weren't sure what. Gringotts would have sent a delegation round to the Department of Magical Games and Sports to complain. I don't remember a single very large bet being placed at the time, either, which would have been the wise thing to do -- although most dodgy gamblers find it impossible to stop after one go, which is how they get caught.' 

Whisp's face clouded over suddenly. 

'Of course, that does raise the question of _why_ the spell has never been used. When the action of a charm becomes permanent, as happened in your case, it's usually a sign that something's gone badly awry. The enchantment could be flawed or inherently dangerous; it may have nasty side effects. I must check if there were any unexplained Seeker deaths on the continent that season.' 

He turned to Harry with an extremely serious look. 

'You really should speak to the Healers at St Mungo's about this. Keen as I am to confirm the existence of the Wild Snitch of Bodmin Moor, if there was any risk to your health --' 

'Oh, you don't have to worry about that,' said Harry, dismayed at the hornets' nest he'd inadvertently stirred up. 'I mean, it's been seven years, if the spell was going to hurt me somehow, I reckon it already would have done.' 

It took some convincing on Harry and Oliver's part (as well as Harry's promise to pay a visit to St Mungo's at his earliest convenience), but Whisp at last agreed to meet them on Bodmin Moor the following weekend. 

The moor was cloudy, warm and very muggy when Harry and Oliver landed their broomsticks a quarter of a mile east of the Trethevy Quoit burial chamber. Whisp was waiting near the stones; he spotted Harry and Oliver the instant they dropped their Disillusionment Charms, and waved them over. 

'We'd better get started straight away,' he said. 'Even with your talent, finding _this_ Snitch won't be easy. I can't tell you the location of the original pitch, I'm afraid -- as it was an amateur game, no records were kept, and after a hundred and twenty years the few surviving spectators don't remember much. I haven't been able to track down anyone who'll admit to being a player. Well, it's got to be a tad embarrassing, your Seekers not managing catch the Snitch for a whole six months ...' 

'If we did know the boundaries of the field, I'm not sure it would do us much good,' said Oliver. 'Bodmin Moor's a funny place. My aunt Erna works for the Department of Magical Creatures, and they've had more trouble with this area of Cornwall than the rest of Britain combined. The local ghosts are continually being seen by Muggles -- they claim it's unintentional, that the Muggle-Repelling spells don't always work properly. Some of the Muggles seem to realise that the moor is bigger than they think it is, too. A third of it's been made Unplottable as a refuge for Cornish Giant Kneazles,' he explained to Harry. '_They_ don't stay put either.' 

'Legend has it that the Half-blood Prince died here,' Whisp chipped in, 'and the moor's been cursed ever since. There's certainly evidence of an unusual amount of stray magic in the air. Some of that may well have had a hand in preventing the capture of the Snitch.' 

'We'll just have to fly around until I get a lock on it,' said Harry. 'Like Seeking a normal Snitch, really.' 

Harry, Oliver and Whisp put their Disillusionment Charms back on and took to the sky. Bodmin Moor could almost have been a single enormous Quidditch pitch: a vast and empty plateau, dotted with grazing sheep and cattle and the occasional granite standing stone. Harry stretched his Aitvaras sense to its limits. He felt the pull of the gold the other two wizards were carrying, as well as that of a surprising number of objects buried in the ground below. Many of them were protected by Thief's Curses, several of which were sufficiently powerful to give pause even to an Aitvaras. None of these things were moving, however, as a Snitch definitely would be. 

Then, far to the west, came a flash of gold on the edge of Harry's awareness. He stopped in mid-air, waiting. The gold appeared and vanished once more as it darted in and out of his range. 

'I think I've got something,' he said. 'This way!' 

Harry leant down on his Firebolt and rocketed off, Oliver and Whisp racing behind him. As he approached the Snitch, his perception of its gold grew steadier. When he was close enough to actually see it zigging and zagging about, Harry glided to a halt. 

'There!' he said, pointing. 'Hang on, it's dropped down by that big rock ... now it's gone right ... and up again ...' 

Oliver and Whisp had their Omnioculars out and were following Harry's directions. 

'My God, it's really -- oh, blast, it's moved on already,' said Whisp. 

'Yes, into that gorse bush,' said Harry. 'Back and leftward ... towards the flock of sheep ... sideways, above the field of heather ... and to the right, it's in the fog bank ...' 

Whisp lowered his Omnioculars and rubbed his eyes. 

'Here, I'll go and catch it for you,' said Harry, sending his broom into a dive. 

Not having chased a Snitch since he was fifteen years old, Harry found himself somewhat out of practice, but it soon became obvious that that would be the least of his difficulties in capturing this one. The ball was a tiny golden blur, zipping along nearly ten times faster than a normal Snitch. Harry needed all the Firebolt's speed to keep up with it. Moreover, the Snitch appeared somehow to realise when Harry was closing in on it, streaking away just as his fingers brushed its wings. 

The Snitch flew in complicated looping patterns over the bare ground, turning tors and hedges into an obstacle course. Then it led Harry southwards into a stretch of woodland, where it wove and dodged madly through the trees. When he finally ran it down against the trunk of a massive oak, Harry was dripping with sweat and gasping for breath, but felt a sense of triumph that he hadn't done in seven years. 

The Snitch buzzed in his hand like an angry bumblebee. Its wings stung Harry's fingers and he had to keep a firm grip on his broomstick to avoid being dragged through the air by the Snitch's acceleration. Luckily, Oliver and Whisp came flying over scarcely a minute later. 

'Got it,' said Harry, holding up the Snitch, which continued to struggle violently. 

'Good heavens,' said Whisp, peering at it closely. 'Enchantment's drastically overpowered -- no wonder they couldn't catch it.' 

He conjured a sort of soap bubble around Harry's hand. Harry released the Snitch and pulled his arm out of the bubble. The Snitch whizzed to and fro inside, almost too rapidly to see. Whisp took out his Omnioculars and used their slow motion replay to get a better look at it. 

'Yes ... wing configuration typical for the period,' he muttered. 'Unusual satin finish on the body ... possibly worn down by exposure to the elements ...' 

Whisp produced a quill and roll of parchment from his bag and began scribbling notes, pausing on occasion to view the Snitch through his Omnioculars. 

'That was an amazing bit of flying, by the way,' he said to Harry. 'And on an old Firebolt Mark 1! Even if you can't play Seeker, any professional team would be willing to sign you as a Chaser on the spot.' 

'What will you do with the Snitch?' Harry asked, as Whisp was putting his quill and parchment away. 

'I was planning on giving it to the Museum of Quidditch,' said Whisp. He hesitated. 'Mind you, it does seem rather cruel -- penning it up after it's been living wild for over a century ...' 

He gazed at the Snitch for a while, then gave a long sigh and prodded the bubble with his wand. It disappeared with a pop and the Snitch soared off. Harry, Oliver and Whisp watched as it flitted out of sight. 

'Would the pair of you care to join me for lunch at the Leaky Cauldron?' said Whisp. 

'Sure,' said Oliver. 'Er -- Harry?' 

'You go on,' said Harry, who was still staring off into the horizon after the Wild Snitch. 'I want to catch it again ...' 

**— the end —**

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**Author's Note:**

The story of the Snitch of Bodmin Moor is told in _Quidditch Through the Ages_. You should buy this book (and its companion volume, _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_); the profits go to **Comic Relief**. 

I honestly have no idea when my next fic ("Millarca", the follow-up to "Christmas Over Azkaban") will be ready. I'll try to update the "Works in Progress" section of my author page every couple of months to give an indication of how things are going.

* * *

_ Disclaimer: All characters and concepts from the Harry Potter series copyright J K Rowling. _


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